Wasted Time
by doopdoop2
Summary: It's Friday night. There's a knock on Kirishima's door, but he isn't expecting anybody; standing on the other side is Bakugou, whom he hasn't seen in three years.


Kirishima isn't expecting anyone, so the knock on the door takes him by surprise. It's 9 at night on a Friday, but he hasn't made any plans, and he's pretty sure that his parents would at least shoot him a message before heading over. He throws on a shirt so he doesn't scandalize whatever poor person might have come to the wrong address, and pads over, sock-footed and clad in sweats.

He opens the door, stops, stares. It's Bakugou. Behind him, the night is wet; it's more of a mist than a rain, but his white-blonde hair is damp all the same. Kirishima can think of nothing to say, cannot even muster up the energy to fake a smile. It has been a hard week. He waits for Bakugou to explain himself.

"Can I come in?" he says at last. "It's fucking cold out here."

"Sure." Kirishima shuffles to the side and watches as the other man kicks off his shoes, still waiting for some kind of explanation.

"You're looking at me like I'm some kind of a ghost," Bakugou says at last, arching one eyebrow. "What's your problem?"

"Dude," Kirishima says. "I haven't seen you in _three years_."

"Look," Bakugou says. "I've been drinking, I didn't wanna drive home like this. Can I crash on your couch for the night? I won't eat your food or anything." He looked around the empty, silent apartment, his lip curling into a sneer. "Or do you have other plans?"

"Sure, dude," Kirishima says. "You want a towel or something?"

"Yeah, sure."

Kirishima pads off. Behind him, he hears Bakugou collapse onto his couch. When he gets to the bathroom, he flips on the light and looks at himself in the mirror.

" _What the fuck_?" he asks his reflection, which looks just as confused as Kirishima feels.

Three years, maybe more like three and a half, and not a single message from Bakugou during that entire time. To be fair, he himself hadn't reached out that often, but after the first few rejections, it was hard to keep including Bakugou in his plans.

That means it's been more than four years since they'd broken up.

He grabs the towel and walks back to the living room. Bakugou's leaning back on the couch like he owns the place, looking around with visible curiosity. As he hands Bakugou the towel, Kirishima smells alcohol on his breath, but it's not overwhelming. If he hadn't mentioned it explicitly, Kirishima wouldn't have guessed he'd even been drinking. He'd seen Bakugou drunk before, and he certainly isn't drunk now.

"You saved my ass," Bakugou says gruffly, staring at the towel for a moment as if he isn't sure what to do with it, before beginning to dry off his face and hair. "Some of my coworkers asked me if I wanted to go out and get drinks with them after work. I didn't even think about how I was gonna get home."

Kirishima stares at Bakugou as he finishes toweling off. He knows, if only from social media, exactly where Bakugou works. The agency is halfway across the city from Kirishima's own apartment. There are probably two dozen closer bars. This isn't even a particularly nice part of town.

But here he is.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Bakugou says, looking Kirishima up and down.

 _It's been a long week,_ Kirishima thinks. _It's been a long,_ long _week and I was about to get myself some ice cream and sit down and watch shitty movies for the rest of the night, and here you are, out of the blue._

"It has," he says. "Quite a while."

Bakugou looks surprised when Kirishima says nothing more. Kirishima can't even find it in himself to play the good host and offer water or coffee or anything. He wants to sit down, but the only seating in his living room is the couch and the floor, so he stands, leaning against the wall, trying not to think of his ice cream, sitting peacefully in the freezer, waiting for him.

Bakugou, he notices, is jittery. His knee is bouncing. His hands are shaking. He glances at Kirishima, and then away. "Did you do something wrong?" Kirishima asks him, feeling a sinking in his gut at the idea. "Are you just using this as a place to hide from the cops or something?"

"What the fuck?" Bakugou says, his voice loud. He laughs. Whether he's more offended or amused, Kirishima can't tell. "What kind of shitty fucking question is that?"

 _This_ is the Bakugou he remembers, Kirishima thinks, and laughs too. "Sorry," he says, relaxing a little. He sighs. His legs are tired. Even though he isn't sure he wants to be that close to Bakugou, he doesn't want to keep standing, so he collapses on to the couch next to him. "It's just really random, you know? Like, we haven't talked in years! Sorry, dude, it just took me by surprise!"

"You don't have to change your plans, you know," Bakugou says, looking away. "If you wanna, like, go out somewhere, I can just stay here. Or if you wanna go to bed."

"It's…" Kirishima checks his phone. "Not even 9:30. I'm not going to bed yet."

Bakugou shrugs "Whatever, man."

Bakugou wants something, Kirishima knows. But if he were to ask, "Why are you _really_ here?" it would frighten the other man away. He can imagine Bakugou's very predictable outrage at being asked that question, as if Kirishima wasn't completely, 100% justified to do so.

It makes him mad, in a way. Bakugou's got this massive sense of entitlement, always has. Sometimes it's charming, other times just grating. But he's just utter shit at anything to do with emotions. He absolutely cannot be upfront about anything, even if he seems like it's something he should be good at. Sometimes he can be a very direct person, but other times…

Kirishima knows the only way to get Bakugou to reveal why he's actually here is to let him play out this façade and let the truth come out at Bakugou's own pace. It's the same way you can't rush at a wild animal if you want to get close to it; you have to sit still and be very quiet, very non-threatening, and let the animal approach you of its own accord. Anything else and the animal will flee, and you've lost your chance forever.

It's _exactly_ like that, and although Kirishima is still annoyed – it's bringing back memories of high school, and it's a lot of fucking effort – he's _just_ intrigued enough to want to find out the truth.

"Well," Kirishima says, deciding the best course of action might actually be to take Bakugou's suggestion, "my evening plans were nothing grander than eating ice cream and watching a movie. I only have enough ice cream for myself, but I can get you water or something if you want. Or are you hungry?"

"No, 'm not hungry. Water is fine."

Bakugou takes the proffered water without even a "thank you," but that's hardly unexpected. Kirishima turns on his TV and looks through movies, selecting some martial arts movie generic enough that he isn't even sure if he's seen it before or not. He turns the volume down just enough that he'll be able to hear Bakugou clearly if he does speak, and settles down to wait, digging into his ice cream at last.

It's not until twenty minutes passes and Kirishima's ice cream is just a fond memory that Bakugou finally opens his mouth. "How are things, anyway?" he says.

Kirishima weighs the question, considering how to answer. "Pretty good," he says at last. "It's not so bad, being a sidekick. I've made some new friends, but I do miss everyone from UA. My agency's a bit out of the way, so I don't see them a lot." It doesn't seem like Bakugou is going to ask a follow up question, so Kirishima chances it: "Do _you_ miss everyone?"

He doesn't ask whether Bakugou sees his former classmates often; he knows the answer is no. They tried inviting him to their get-togethers at first, but Bakugou never seemed to feel like it. So they figured he would _never_ feel like it, and gradually just stopped inviting him.

"Miss – miss those idiots? Of course not," Bakugou says. Pauses. "Eh, well, sometimes some of the shit we did together was fun, I guess."

Maybe Bakugou's lonely? _Well, obviously_ , Kirishima tells himself; to come over to another person's house apparently just to hang out is a very desperate thing for him to do.

"Do you regret dating me?"

Bakugou's question catches Kirishima entirely by surprise. He isn't sure of how to answer, and stares at the television screen, thinking. In his peripheral vision, he sees Bakugou turn to look at him. "I don't regret it," he says at last. "I just feel kind of guilty about the whole thing. Well, not really anymore, but I did at the time."

"Why the fuck would you feel guilty?"

"I swear we talked about this four years ago, dude."

"Tell me again," Bakugou says, meeting his eyes like it's a challenge.

It's too much for Kirishima, who looks away. "I really liked you," he says. "I was head over heels for you. But the whole time, I just felt like I was pushing myself on you. I could tell you didn't like me as much as I liked you. It was always me planning things, it was always me asking you on dates and doing stuff… At first I was just pumped you'd agreed to date me. I thought, 'I'm gonna make this guy really fall for me,' but by the end, I realized it would never happen. I ended up wishing you'd never agreed to begin with."

It's more than he's ever said out loud before, to Bakugou or anyone. Time's made his thoughts more coherent and tiredness has worn away his filter, so the words seem to just pour out of him. He dares to look at Bakugou again; the other man looks surprised for a moment, then furrows his brow as if deep in thought.

The movie rolls on, over-exaggerated punching noises filling the tense silence. Kirishima wants to get something to drink, but feels almost hypnotized, wanting to know what Bakugou will say next. He waits.

"You think I only agreed to date you as a favor or something?"

"That's kind of what I thought at first," Kirishima says. "That's why I felt bad. But maybe you actually agreed because you don't like saying no to people."

"I _don't like saying no to people_? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Kirishima shrugs. Bakugou's harsh words don't have any effect on him, even if his voice is nearly loud enough to hurt his eardrums. "Then why else would you say yes when I asked you out?"

"Maybe because I liked you back?"

Kirishima pauses, considers, shakes his head. "Nah, I mean, it's been a while, but I'm pretty sure I knew you well enough to be able to tell."

"Maybe you didn't know me as well as you thought you did, shithead!"

That's real anger in his voice, Kirishima realizes. He stops the movie and turns to look at him. "What are you saying?" he asks slowly.

"What do you fucking think?"

"Stop it," Kirishima says, "that's – that's what the problem always was." He stands; arguing with someone while sitting next to them on the couch feels strange. "I'm not a mind reader, dude! I never knew this, because you never told me!"

"I'm…" To his surprise, Bakugou doesn't also get to his feet. He folds his legs up so his knees are pressed to his chest, and presses his face against his knees. "I'm really, really not good at that." His voice is so low that Kirishima isn't even entirely sure he's heard correctly. "You were always way better than me."

"That's no excuse," Kirishima says, the fight leaving his voice. "Are you trying to tell me you actually liked me back?"

Bakugou meets his eyes. His entire face is flushed red.

"Dude." Kirishima isn't sure whether to be angry or amazed that they're having this conversation at all. "I broke up with you because you didn't like me back, and you're telling me _now_ that you actually _did_?"

"Guess so," Bakugou says, like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I dunno, it seemed like you'd already made up your mind, and… Are you fucking crying?"

Kirishima closes his eyes, wiping his cheek with the back of one hand. He can't even try to hide his stupid tears, although he wishes he could. "Guess I am," he says, sniffing. "I'm so mad, Bakugou. I'm so fucking mad." Saying it while crying takes most of the bite out of the words, but Kirishima wants him to know this, at least.

"Yeah." Bakugou is still on the couch. He looks away. "I… understand."

"Enough with these stupid games," Kirishima says, cutting to the chase at last only because he knows Bakugou's in too deep to flee now. "You need to tell me, right now, why you came to my house tonight."

Bakugou finally stands and takes a step towards Kirishima, who has to resist the urge to mimic the action and close the distance between them. "Give me another chance," Bakugou says. "Go out with me again."

Kirishima wants to reach out, to touch him again, but still has to take his words with a grain of salt; he thinks he'd be a fool not to. "Is it just desperation?" he asks, wishing he didn't still have those stupid tears in his eyes. "You've been alone so long you'd take anyone?"

He half expects Bakugou to get angry again, but when he speaks, his voice is quiet. "I haven't even wanted to be with anyone else," he says, staring at the floor. "I just keep thinking about you and how you made me feel and how I – blew it."

Kirishima hugs him, savoring the feeling of the tension in Bakugou's body melting away at the physical contact. He buries his face at the junction of neck and shoulder and inhales, and the scent is just about the same as he remembers. He's back in high school, filled to the brim with the same rush of endorphins and nerves and butterflies that he felt then.

Bakugou pulls away first, but only to meet his eyes, his pupils dark. Kirishima reaches a hand up to rest against Bakugou's face, gently, thumb rubbing the line of his cheekbone, and leans in, but only halfway.

Bakugou closes the rest of the gap between them and kisses him. It's the first time Kirishima can recall him ever making the first move, and he feels a tightness in his chest, feels his heartbeat racing. He reaches a hand up to stroke Bakugou's neck and feel the feather-light hairs at his nape.

"I'm sorry," Bakugou says when they break apart at last. "Sorry that it took so long."

Kirishima hugs him again and sighs with pleasure. "It's okay," he says. "I forgive you."

He's thought of this many times, although he always hoped it would happen sooner. But he can't complain.

Better late than never.


End file.
